Lonely No More
by Stratusfied247
Summary: This is a one-shot fic based off of Rob Thomas's song, Lonely No More. A concussion knocks down the wall surrounding the Legend Killer's heart and allows him to make a confession that he probably wouldn't have said otherwise. (TrishRandy)


"You hang around for the sex, don't you?"

Randy Orton rolled his head to the side and groaned. The slight movement made him feel like every bone in his head was sliding around beneath the thin skin that covered his skull. His eyes stung from the light and he could barely focus, but he could see her… well, a piece of her. He could see the bottom edge of her shirt that hugged tightly just beneath her breasts. He could see her stomach where it disappeared into the top of her jeans. He could see the curve of her hips.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Trish Stratus sighed and knelt down beside the bed. Her hands gripped the middle row of bars on the side and looked up at him. To say that she had expected to spend her entire night, and probably most of the morning, in a hospital was the lie of the century. Though, she supposed she should have expected the time to come sooner or later. Randy had always been accident-prone. She had just thought that a few months without an injury of some sort meant that he was finally cured. His concussion said otherwise.

"This whole thing… you and me. You're here for the sex."

Randy sighed and while he had enjoyed the view of his breasts, he had to admit that he was very glad that he could see her face. For some reason that he couldn't wrap his injured head around, he though she was at the most gorgeous that he'd ever seen her. He couldn't keep his eyes focused on her, but when the blurred stinging stopped every few seconds, he could see her creamy brown eyes and pouty lips. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but anymore movement out of him was almost positively out of the question right then.

"This concussion has obviously made you loopy AND insane."

Trish rolled her eyes and shook her head. Randy… There was something about him that kept her around, though she wasn't sure that she'd say it was just the sex. In the beginning, she came to him for sex. He was good and he was fun, but now… It obviously wasn't for the sex, considering that the two hadn't slept together in at least two months. If Randy was getting it from anywhere, it was from the random chicks that grabbed his clothes and told him how sexy it was. Which was the reason they hadn't had sex in so long. Trish needed more commitment than Randy was apparently capable of giving.

"It's always the sex. Everybody wanting a piece… some skin… I always just get the sex."

He never thought he would be the one to say it, not as a virile 25 year old man, but Randy was tired of random sex. It was fun, sure, but it was also empty. He was tired of pushing random women out of his bed at all hours of the morning. He was tired of them reminding him of their names the following morning as they shoved phone numbers that he would never call into his hands. He was tired of watching real couples walk around. He was tired of just having friends to talk to, friends to hide emotions from because they expected him to be a certain way. He wanted one person that he could be completely open with about everything before he put his camera face back on and walked out the door to the waiting crowds.

"Randy, we haven't had sex in months. Seriously, you should just be quiet and wait for your head to start healing, because you're talking insane."

She felt bad for him. Not necessarily the concussion, but what she heard in his voice between the spurts of insanity. He actually sounded sad, as though having thousands of girls wanting his body was a bad thing. Just a few months ago it wasn't a bad thing. In fact, it was too much of a good thing for the relationship that she'd tried to have with him. And she really did try. She tried so hard that she started to fall in love with him, and that was why she had to break it off. She could be his friend and watch him whore the world. She couldn't be in love with him and watch it.

"Sex isn't all it's cracked up to be, ya know. I mean… sex is great. Sex is… I fucking love sex, you know that, but… I miss sex with you."

He missed everything about her. He missed the way her hair fell over his chest when she rolled in her sleep. He missed watching her walk around the room in his shirt because it was either the closest thing to her when she wanted to walk around or because, for some reason she wouldn't explain, she just wanted to wear it. He missed the feel of her body in his hands. He missed standing behind her and digging his chin into her scalp. Even though she tried to keep him in the dark about how she really felt about him, Randy missed knowing that she actually felt something for him… as opposed to just wanting to feel something on him.

"The sex was good. It was never the sex that was the problem, Randy. It was…"

Trish shrugged. It was the entire thing. She didn't think it was because of the supposed emotional differences between men and women. It wasn't because of the small, but still present, age gap between them. He just… he made her feel like the sex was all that was important to him. She had spent so much time in her life trying to convince people that there was more to her than just a sexy body that it hurt to think that she could love someone who only wanted her for that same thing. Yes, she occasionally got a hint from him that he felt something, but those moments had been too few and far in between for them to be significant. She loved him and he liked her. She was a relationship girl, and him… Relationship just wasn't in the dictionary that he bought.

"Everything else. It's all just wrong, Trish, and you're here with me now and I'm thinkin'… maybe she does really care about me. Maybe I'm more than just her friend. Maybe I found that one person who could love me and I'd have sex and love and it'd be fuckin' perfect. And then I think that I'm just seriously concussed and you won't believe a word I say, even though I really mean it all and I just… Is it so wrong that I don't wanna be lonely anymore?"

Babbling… That was the only word Randy had for what had just spewed forth from his mouth. Incoherent babbling bullshit and Trish was going to call him on it. She was going to stand up and walked right out that door because she thought he was either insane or he was trying to pull a line on her, and he wasn't doing either. He was just tired and all that time laying there, waiting for doctors to come back and tell him, yet again, that he had to wait his concussion out at the hospital had given him way too much time to think. Way too much time to realize that with friends, money, fame, and an endless supply of girls that wanted to sleep with him, in the end, he was still alone.

"It's not wrong, Randy, it's just… Hard to believe? I mean… you don't always give off the vibe of somebody who wants to be in love. You've got to give to get it, Randy, and I tried… I tried to give you a little because I didn't want to give you too much. And in the end? I still gave too much because, I'll tell you this. I wouldn't be in this hospital right now with you if I didn't love you. I'd be back at the hotel asleep or off at Denny's grabbing the greasiest burger they could make."

After his admission, one of her own seemed only right. It seemed only decent for her to tell him that she did love him, because his eyes were so… gone. She knew that was partially because of the concussion, but Trish thought she could see past that to some real emotion. And, she could have said that it didn't matter because he wouldn't remember most of what he said in the morning, but the yearning in his voice, the sorrow and desperation… it seemed too sincere to be thrown to the wind because of concussion. It all seemed like it was real and he had just been waiting for himself to be in the proper place and time that allowed for him to be emotional. His guard was down now, and he could spill out what he had been feeling. The least she could do was do the same.

"I really don't wanna be lonely anymore, Trish."

"You're not lonely."

"Yeah, I am. Once the girls are gone… when I lay down to just go to sleep, I'm alone. When I wanna talk… friends and family don't do it all, ya know? So… if you're sayin' you love me…"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"I know, I know. But… I don't know. If you're sayin' it just to say it, then don't. Just don't give me pity or any of that shit. If you're serious, then be serious about it. Any other day, I could probably take the joke, but right now… Right now, Trish, I can't take the joke."

"It's not a joke, Randy. I love you. Dumb as that might be, I love you. Insane and completely irrational as that might be, I love you."

"Because I wanna be loved."

"You're loved, Randy."

"I wanna be loved by you."

"You are loved by me, Randy."

"Good. Because… I don't know. I'm just… I don't know if anybody else is worth the effort, and if they are, I wouldn't know it 'cause I just want you to be worth it, ya know? 'Cause you are worth the effort, and believe it or not, so am I. And I know it's gonna be an effort, because I am shit to deal with and I can be a fucking asshole sometimes, but…"

"But, nothing. Shut up, alright? Just lay there and be quiet. I love you and you're not lonely anymore. Enough said."


End file.
